


Scorched Earth

by Dee218



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst Warning, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee218/pseuds/Dee218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him” </em>-Niccolò Machiavelli</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorched Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a light and porny future!fic, but Flint’s head is a scary place and I just couldn’t do it any other way. Set somewhere in the future after s2.

Flint closed the captain’s log with a sigh and rubbed his aching eyes. The soft glow of the setting sun had long ago left the cabin, and the flickering lights from the candles did nothing to help with the headache that was currently clutching its claws deeper into his brain. He had been calculating the next course of action against England’s rapidly growing armada for the better part of the evening without that much of a success. As much as he hated admitting it to himself, his thoughts kept returning to an issue that was becoming more and more of a problem the longer he spent time on The Walrus. 

Flint has always seen the distance between him and the crew he commanded as a necessity – the less they interacted with each other, the more inclined the crew was to do as they were told without needless, simple minded protests. Or at least that was how it had been before a certain quartermaster had made his way to the crew. The short amount of time it took Flint to become heavily reliant on Silver’s presence on the ship was both alarming and unexpected – it was almost too easy to become dependent on the shaky partnership they shared. 

The incident with the gold had made it painfully obvious to Flint that no matter what words left his quartermaster’s mouth he should always expect half-truths at most. After the mayhem in Charles Town Silver’s entanglement with the crew had been sealed and the pieces had fallen where they now lay, and Flint was stuck with a partner he shared no trust with – an issue that was often raised with heated words and pointed fingers. Silver of course had a lot to say in his own defense ( _you lied and left me no choice, what the fuck did you expect? I can’t believe we are going here again_ ) but the truth was that there were a few things Flint couldn’t risk, and becoming dependent on something fleeting was high on his list.

Silver had once described himself as a hard man not to like, and while Flint absolutely fucking disagreed – he would go as far as calling him a pestering thorn, permanently stuck to his side – he couldn’t help but to feel the pull of his compelling persona. Silver had a mouth on him that could run off against his better judgment, but at the same time he knew how to sell a story. He was fast to adapt and more resilient than a ship rat, and he always knew which stone to turn to come out of a situation with better odds for survival. He also knew how to work his charm to sell a point and dig for information, and ever since he had become Flint’s quartermaster, those abilities worked in the favor of the ship as a whole. 

For whatever superficial reason people seemed to like Silver and to seek out his company, it was his apparent intelligence and the ease he used it with that fascinated Flint. Silver’s ability to control the crew’s sentiments was one of the things Flint found both engrossing and compelling; when Silver got into the performance it was impossible to look away. 

And yes, it was a performance; there was no question about it. Silver’s whole demeanor changed and everything about him shifted – a well calculated display that came so effortlessly it made Flint question why he had helped to place this man in a position where he wielded so much power in the first place. A reassuring movement of a hand, an easy smile, and a displeased shake of a head; it all came together seamlessly and put the crew under a spell so thick even Flint himself couldn’t escape. 

Silver had a way of presenting himself that draw everyone’s eyes to him, and as much as Flint disliked it, he was no exception. The magnetic force around Silver was a dangerous thing considering the man’s questionable morals and rapidly growing ambitions, but as much as he pretended that he stayed immune, it was a blatant lie. More often than he felt comfortable admitting, Flint had found his gaze fixating on Silver’s form, taking in all the tiny details that formed the façade that the man wore like armor, trying to decipher where the show ended and the man begun.

A fleeting thought about the similarities between them was swiftly cast aside as Flint reached for a bottle or rum and poured himself a healthy serving. The liquid burned as it made its way down his throat and Flint grimaced in disgust, showing the cup aside with an annoyed grunt. He was digging his own grave in a sense, letting himself become intrigued and dependent on Silver when the possibility of their partnership becoming to a fast and ugly end was a real possibility. And moreover, it troubled him how easily it was happening despite his firm attempts to say isolated.

The inspections he often found himself immersed in had managed to lodge an unwelcomed coil of thrill into the pit of his stomach– it was almost like he had found a puzzle he was determined to solve, and every piece he discovered only made the problem more complex. He had explained to himself the need to dig through Silver’s walls as a simple battle strategy; a good commander knew the driving forces behind his partners, knew what to expect of them and how to use those forces to his own benefit.

It was obvious to Flint that Silver’s easy going attitude was as a sham constructed to protect him, to make him seem less of a threat and amusing enough a guy to keep alive come trouble. But there were moments when the mood shifted and Flint could see the actual man behind the mask, and those were the moments that troubled him the most. 

When they let a rapidly forming battle strategy pull them under a trance laced with adrenaline and mutual understanding, or when Silver met his challenge with eyes of iron and a relentless force Flint’s mouth turned ashy and that incessant coil of need wound itself tighter and more demanding. The building tension between them kept overtaking Flint’s caution, and that was a distraction he simply couldn’t afford. 

And that was exactly why he was currently sitting alone in the captain’s cabin, with a drink in his hand and a headache behind his eyes. Flint didn’t believe in lying to oneself, but he also wasn’t one to succumb to the needs of the flesh simply because they existed. And he most definitely wasn’t a man that willingly placed himself into a situation with potentially catastrophic consequences. So despite how much he was currently craving for a partner to deliberate their next move with, he simply wasn’t relenting. 

That of course did nothing to help with the ever present dull ache within his gut. It was like he was constantly on the verge of arousal, and that any small movement from the bane of his existence could send a crashing wave of pleasure to his way and tip him over the edge.

Flint groaned and leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. His thoughts kept returning to Silver, and how much the man had changed since he became the quartermaster of The Walrus. It was like the injury had cut out some of the levity of him and made him harder, more intense, and more precise in his games. The young guy with limitless capabilities to spew bullshit he had met back then had morphed into a relentless man, and as much as he hated it, Flint couldn’t pretend like Silver’s constant presence on the ship and his ability to know just what buttons to push to provoke a reaction out of him didn’t send an occasional thrilling pulse right to his cock. 

Flint let his hand fall to his lap as his mind kept circling back to the look often on Silver’s face when they were face-to-face and deep into a battle of wills, so close to one another that you could feel every single breath taken. He fucking loved how Silver never backed down, how he angled his body to be ready for whatever came next and stared straight _at_ him, either with a provoking grin or a steel cold challenge.

He wondered what Silver would do if one of these days he’d grab the man’s face and kiss him, deep and demanding. Would he push him away and punch him straight to the face, or would he clutch his hands around his neck and bring him closer in, devouring him whole? 

The thought made Flint’s cock twitch in anticipation. He slid his palm over the bulge in his pants and squeezed, hard, and moaned as the pressure alleviated some of the ache. Maybe he would back Silver into a wall and make him work for it, test him until his control broke and he would release all that tension onto him. He would slide his tongue into the man’s mouth and fuck it demandingly as his hands found their way into Silver’s pants and fisted his cock. He’d claim Silver’s mouth while his hands worked inside the man’s pants, twisting and pulling, making him gasp and pant until he was nothing more than a dark void of want that took over and cast aside all the pretenses.

Flint’s hands were shaking as he worked on the strings of his pants and freed his painfully had erection, letting his hand close around it with a strained moan. He watched himself as his hand worked over the stiff cock in a loose grip, and imagined how it would feel to let someone conquer him. Maybe Silver would grab his chin and pry his lips away from his, telling him to get on his knees with a look so dark it made his balls ache. 

The thought about kneeling before the man made Flint’s hand move faster. He cupped his balls and circled the base of his erection with his other hand as he stoked himself, picturing himself on the floor before Silver. He would work Silver’s penis free and lick the tip of it, maintaining eye contact, watching as his expression turned from dark to frantic. He’d take his time, teasing and tasting him with barely-there touches and hot gushes of air before Silver would lose his patience and shove his cock deep into his throat. He thought about sucking Silver off, circling his cock with the tip of the tongue until Silver would rock into his mouth, incoherent words spill out of him while Flint took him in deeper and swallowed. 

It would give him such pleasure to see Silver lose his composure, to succumb to the desire and bare himself. Flint knew there were layers left within Silver he hadn’t witnessed yet, and he craved to see what would manifest when there were only flesh and raw need. Maybe it would only take one dark, well placed smirk from Flint to make Silver abandon his control and consume him. 

Flint squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his dick tighter, moving the other hand to cover the aching, swollen tip, spreading the precum around in smooth, rolling motions. If Silver were to walk into the captain’s cabin right now and witness him, he would throw away all the caution and welcome his lips all over his cock with fervent praise. He desired to feel Silver’s fingers work him open, to feel him thrust his fingers in and spread them wide, to chase him near the peak but stop right before he could get there. He needed to feel Silver’s cock deep within him, to fuck him raw and senseless, to banish everything so that there were only sweat and sensations. 

Flint growled as he jerked himself faster – he imagined Silver pressing him down, cock so deep within him it made him lose his breath, pounding against that particular spot, face twisted in ecstasy and mouth spilling incoherent words. Flint would grab his ass and make him give him everything he had, chase it out with a clash of tongue and teeth, force Silver to spill his come deep within him. He craved to feel him fall apart inside him as his own pleasure conquered everything and burned the world around them to ashes. 

Flint allowed the crippling orgasm flood over him in like a dark wave. He tensed in his chair and threw his head back, teeth lodged to the inside if his cheek while he fought the shout that was threatening to escape him as he came with a violent shiver. His cock kept pulsing in his grasp as he jerked his hand along his shaft, letting the waves of want drag out and simmer down to a dull, familiar ache while his pulse settled and thoughts quieted. 

It took him a minute to retreat from the fantasy and build up his defenses again, but by the time Flint had cleaned his sticky hands and drawn the captain’s log in front of him again, the wall of indifference was safely back up. He could keep doing this, to rely solely on himself. People were fickle and erratic, and trust was a commodity he simply didn’t possess anymore. 

He simply needed to let the fire scorch out everything that was still weak and fertile within him.


End file.
